


Once Bitten, Twice Shy

by hourglassmermaid



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Break Up, Christmas Party, F/F, M/M, Military!Alec Lightwood, POV Magnus Bane, Professor Magnus Bane, We Always Seem to Find Our Way Back to Each Other, Wine as a Symbol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 05:51:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16886838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hourglassmermaid/pseuds/hourglassmermaid
Summary: “Magnus.”The rest of the world melts away and Magnus’ senses are flooded with nothing but Alec. He smells of the same sandalwood cologne Magnus gave him last year for his birthday. The rough sound of his voice as he breathes out Magnus’ name takes Magnus’ breath away, and somehow, he looks even more gorgeous than the last time Magnus saw him. His hair’s a fluffy mess, he sports some soft stubble on his chin, and the light green of his service uniform brings out the piercing green of the hazel eyes he has locked on Magnus.“Alexander.”Where Magnus is a Biochemistry Professor trying to reconnect with an old friend at Christmastime, and a bottle of wine becomes an olive branch for a lost love.





	Once Bitten, Twice Shy

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This was written as part of the [Malec Advent Calendar 2018](http://magnusandalexander.tumblr.com/malecadventcalendar2018), so a special shout out to [Anica](http://magnusandalexander.tumblr.com/) for organizing the event!
> 
> Thank you to my amazing betas [Meyer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meyer), [CryptidBane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impetus/pseuds/CryptidBane), and [Cave_Bob_Sponge_Man](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cave_Bob_Sponge_Man) for fixing all of my Marc Andre Flurries lol
> 
> Title comes from "Last Christmas" by whichever cover is your favorite but initially Wham!

The streets of New York are illuminated by a soft winter’s glow. A light dusting of snow covers cars and buildings in a frigid blanket, but the brisk wind flowing through the city uproots it into a silvery tornado that twinkles under the street lights. Magnus watches the way the snow puffs up and falls back to earth, his breath ghosting out in icy huffs. 

He adjusts his scarf so it covers his nose, fixes his earmuffs to try and drown out the bar crawl behind him, and stuffs his gloved hands into his pockets. He’s chilled to the bone, and by this point, the only thing keeping him on his feet is his patented blend of five shots of espresso and Christmas cheer (the Irish cream in his pocket flask). 

The chorus of drunken chatter dies down as Magnus ducks into his favorite corner liquor store. He nods at the clerk and heads directly to the wine section. His eyes dart from bottle to bottle as he mouths out the brand names silently to himself, trying to settle on something inoffensive that will please the majority.

He can’t remember what Isabelle likes; it’s been so long since they last found time to go out for drinks after their lectures. And so much has happened since… It’s been awhile. 

He wants to bring something that she’ll enjoy. Not something she’ll pull a face at and banish to the back of her refrigerator. He vaguely recalls her sipping on a red one night while they were trading horror stories from their freshman Gen Chem lab sections. She got so into her dramatic retelling of the time she had a student break their buret during a titration that she spilled her glass all over the lab reports they were supposed to be grading. Magnus’ stomach drops at the memory. 

His finger traces over the embossed letters on a bottle of nice Merlot. _Full-bodied flavor. Notes of black cherry and currant. Elegant._ Very Isabelle. Hopefully she likes it — or at least doesn’t hate it. But it’s better than arriving empty handed.

Magnus checks the time on his phone. He’s really pushing it on arriving fashionably late and drifting into blatantly late with each new tick, but he needs to check on something before he cashes out and journeys back into the tundra. 

His feet guide him towards that familiar aisle, and his hands reach out towards that same spot on the shelf. Muscle memory is an incredible phenomenon. Magnus turns the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon over in his hands. He hasn’t had a glass of this in almost a year now. 

He thinks of candlelit dinners and hushed whispers between silk sheets. Picnics on the beach and movie nights spent in an oversized armchair. The crackle of a warm fire and the feeling of soft fur against bare skin. 

He squeezes the neck of the bottle a little tighter. 

He remembers broken glasses and slammed doors. Tear stained papers and missed calls. An abandoned key in his kitchen drawer and the sound of a plane flying off into the distance. 

There’s no point in buying the bottle. Isabelle assured Magnus that _he_ wouldn’t be there tonight. In fact, that’s the only reason why Magnus agreed to make an appearance.

He pays for both bottles at the counter anyway and tucks the brown paper bag under his arm before heading out into the bitter night air. Magnus justifies the purchase by telling himself that maybe Isabelle drinks the same wine as her brother, but his heart knows the truth better than his misplaced excuses. 

He takes refuge in the lobby of Isabelle’s building, shutting out the cold behind him. Magnus glances around at the chipped beadboard, scuffed linoleum, and peeling paint. It’s all so familiar and yet so foreign simultaneously — a place he once knew but where he no longer belongs. 

He presses the button next to Isabelle and Clary’s names, and someone buzzes him inside a moment later. He climbs up the rickety stairs until he reaches their floor. Magnus wanders down the hallway and double checks the text Isabelle sent him with her apartment number. It feels wrong that he no longer knows it by heart. The worst part of everything was losing Isabelle. 

Neither of them have admitted it, but it’s true nonetheless — their new normal. Even though Magnus and Isabelle were friends long before _he_ and Magnus ever met, Magnus lost her when he lost him. 

Magnus hesitates as he winds up to knock on her door. She invited him here. She wants him here. He sucks in a deep breath and turns the knob. 

“Magnus!” Isabelle’s uncharacteristically high voice squeals. She stumbles as she pulls him into a hug. “You made it! Come in, come in!”

“Merry Christmas,” Magnus greets, patting her on the back. “This is for you by the way.” He hands her one of the wine bottles. 

“Merlot? You remembered!” 

The relief pouring off of Magnus is palpable. “How could I forget?” 

Isabelle takes his arm and shimmies through the crowd of her friends and some of their colleagues who are all dancing to “All I Want For Christmas is You” and scream-singing along. Magnus spots Isabelle’s bullheaded adopted brother laying it on far too thick for a few disinterested women and Clary’s tangle of fiery red curls as she kneels down on the carpet, helping Simon’s band set up for the party. She waves at him from across the room, and Magnus flashes her a smile and a head nod.

Isabelle leads him towards the drink table and shoves a glass of eggnog that smells deceptively more like rum than nutmeg into his hands. She pours a glass for herself. 

“A toast,” Isabelle slurs, raising her glass so some of the liquid sloshes out of the top. “to old friends.” 

Magnus clinks his glass against hers and winces as he takes a tentative sip. It’s strong, even for him. 

“And I believe congratulations are in order?” Magnus says, choking down the burn. “Future Mrs. Clary Fairchild.”

Isabelle beams, her whole face dissolving into the most beautiful smile as she wiggles her fingers to flaunt her custom engagement ring. The rose gold band accented with a delicate pattern of tiny diamonds and princess cut white sapphire almost shines as bright as the love shared between these two exceptional women. 

Isabelle recounts in vivid detail how and where Clary proposed as they drift towards the entryway to her balcony, the doors propped open to cool down the tightly packed room. 

“We were at her new gallery opening, and—” 

“Magnus.”

The rest of the world melts away and Magnus’ senses are flooded with nothing but Alec. He smells of the same sandalwood cologne Magnus gave him last year for his birthday. The rough sound of his voice as he breathes out Magnus’ name takes Magnus’ breath away, and somehow, he looks even more gorgeous than the last time Magnus saw him. His hair’s a fluffy mess, he sports some soft stubble on his chin, and the light green of his service uniform brings out the piercing green of the hazel eyes he has locked on Magnus. 

“Alexander.”

Magnus has lived through this exact moment so many times before it’s like he’s playing out a distant dream or an old memory. The overwhelming sense of deja vu breaks him of his daze as if he had been splashed with ice water.

Magnus tugs at the hem of Isabelle’s blouse, leaning in close to whisper, “I thought you said he wasn’t going to be here.” 

Isabelle pulls away. “Ya know, I think I hear Clary in the kitchen! She probably needs help with the devilled eggs!” 

Magnus reaches out to her as she hurries towards the kitchen, gulping down the rest of her eggnog as she disappears into the crowd. Magnus leans up against the french doors, trying to slow down his heartbeat to a rate that wouldn’t alarm his PCP. Once he’s satisfied that he won’t pass out in front of his past lover, Magnus plasters on a brave face and steps out onto the balcony. 

“Aren’t you cold out here?”

> _Magnus, we need to talk._

  
“I’m wearing layers under my uniform.”

> _What’s on your mind, Angel?_

  
Magnus nods. “I see now why your sister didn’t take my coat.”

Alec shakes his head, gripping the metal railing a little harder. “Yeah, she told me she had a surprise for me.” 

“That definitely sounds like Isabelle.” Magnus walks over to the edge of the balcony and rests his elbows on the railing beside Alec. He’s close enough to touch, but Magnus gave up that privilege a year ago. “What are you doing here? I didn’t think you’d be home for another year.”

> _I want you to come with me._

  
“I’m on leave for the next two weeks.” Alec shifts around so his back is pressed against the railing and tilts his head towards the sky. The flurries swirl around in the air and cascade down onto the porch. A few isolated snowflakes land in his dark hair and glimmer in the moonlight. He looks like an angel.

> _I’m not going to put my career on hold to follow you._

  
“It’s nice that they let you come home for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Alec agrees. “How’s your semester going? Izzy told me you just got published in the _Journal of Biochemistry_ , so uh, congratulations.” 

“She knows about my paper?”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Because they only ever talk anymore when Magnus is carrying a fresh cup of coffee back to his office, and she’s heading into her lab. 

“We… haven’t had much time lately to catch up.”

“Yeah, she’s been busy.” Alec swipes his tongue over his top lip, and Magnus feels the phantom warmth of his kiss, the soft, plush feel of his mouth against Magnus’. 

A silence lingers between them, far more chilly than the weather. What do you say to the person who once knew you better than anyone but now might as well be a shadow?

Alec shifts his weight from foot to foot trying to circulate some warmth throughout his hulking form and stumbles on the slick landing, accidentally elbowing Magnus in the side and banging his wrist on the railing. He apologizes profusely as Magnus helps steady him; his breath tickles Magnus’ skin and sends a shiver down his spine. 

Alec nurses his arm, rubbing over the spot where he collided with Magnus. “Damn, do you have a brick in your pocket?” 

“No, actually. Believe it or not,” Magnus teases. He reaches into his coat pocket and draws out the brown paper bag. 

Alec raises his scarred eyebrow at the package, and Magnus’ heart thumps against his ribs. Alec knows of his vices better than most, finding Magnus slumped over on the kitchen floor, open bottle of whiskey on his right and unusable data on the left, more times than Magnus cares to admit. Sometimes Magnus thinks that Alec’s the only reason he finished his PhD, helping him through panic attacks over failed experiments, going into the lab with him on weekends and sitting quietly while Magnus worked, and encouraging him every step of the way when Alec believed in him more than Magnus believed in himself. But that was in the past. Magnus has it under control now. _Mostly_. 

Magnus crumples the paper to give Alec a peek at its contents. He flashes Magnus one of his gorgeous, crooked smiles, and Magnus’ legs almost give out from under him. Coming here was a bad idea. 

“My favorite.”

“Do you want some?” 

They pop the bottle with the corkscrew on Alec’s _Swiss Army_ knife and pass it between them like high schoolers beneath the bleachers during a football game. 

“I always thought this wine suited you,” Magnus says. 

“Really?” How so?” Alec asks in between sips. 

Magnus smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and leans farther out onto the railing, looking off into the night sky. “Classic. Bold. Pairs well with a nice steak.” He laughs to himself. “Dry on the surface but sweet underneath.” 

“You know,” Alec says, swallowing down another swig. “You look incredible tonight.” He pauses. “You always do.” 

Magnus motions for the bottle. “You as well.” He takes a sip.

A strong gust of wind whistles through the air, harmonizing with the distant sirens and horns below, and the party rages on behind them. From the sounds of it, Simon has started his set and is playing a _Punk Goes Pop_ style cover of “Last Christmas.” 

At the same time Magnus says, “I’m sorry about what happened,” Alec says, “I was out of line last year.” 

There’s nervous laughter and awkward glances and fumbling around. Alec grips at the back of his neck. “It was selfish of me to expect you to drop everything to come with me. I’m sorry.”

Magnus plays with the cold metal of the silver ear cuff he’s wearing. “It was an amazing opportunity, and I’m sorry that I made you feel guilty for accepting it. Do you like Berlin?”

“Not nearly as much as I loved being at home with you in New York.” He steps into Magnus’ orbit, but Magnus is the one caught in his gravity.

“Alexander,” Magnus warns. 

“I know we’re not together, and I know it’s my fault, but screw it, I need you to know,” He takes another step, brushing his fingers against Magnus’ cheek, and Magnus leans into his warm caress. “that I never stopped caring about you.”

“I waited for you. I didn’t mean to, but I did.” 

“You didn’t have to,” Alec whispers. “I never expected you to—”

Magnus curls his fingers around Alec’s and gives them a gentle squeeze. “You’ve had my heart for so long that I couldn’t imagine it with someone else.” 

Magnus hears the shudder in Alec’s breath and his sharp gasp and is relieved to know that he’s not the only one who forgot how to breathe.

“I love you.” 

Alec leans in and presses his lips to Magnus’ and for the first time in almost a year, Magnus feels at home. Magnus’ eyelids flutter shut, and he kisses back with all that he has, revelling in how very right, how very safe it feels to be back in Alec’s arms. 

Magnus doesn’t open his eyes when they part. 

“I love you too.”

It’s a promise. A promise that this time things will be different — they’ll be different. And Magnus is ready to try. 

“Merry Christmas, Magnus.”

“Merry Christmas, Alexander.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed! As always, you can find me on [tumblr](http://hourglassmermaid.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/izzylightbane)!
> 
> Would love to hear your thoughts in the comments below, and happy holidays! :)


End file.
